The Reality of Things
by FamousLastLines
Summary: A project. Events following the island. A realistic outtake on things. More information in the author's note.


**Author's Note:**

This is a little thing I like to call _procrastinating-instead-of-doing-homework-before-finals_. In school, we're reading _Lord of the Flies_, and even though we're not finished, I've been a fan for some time now. I've read fanfics that completely twist the characters and concentrate on building relationships. The reality that the boys would all be emotionally and physically unstable to some extreme is usually completely ignored. In even more cases, the boys are thrust back into society; as if they weren't stuck on an island for months, forced to watch others around them become animals. Come on, now! Three people died right before their eyes! At such a young age, they'd probably be, y'know, worse off than adults or adolescents. I wanted to write something that addresses the reality of the situation. No sugar-coating things. No rushing things. In actuality, the story could be featured as a_ reaaally_ weird episode of _I Shouldn't Be Alive_- if it was true, of course.

For now, I'm considering this a side project. I don't know what path this piece will take. Maybe a one shot, maybe just a few chapters, or maybe a full blown story. I really have no clue, but I guess it'll depend on the feedback I get.

* * *

_"19-8-40: Plane Crashes on Island West of Great Britain, Approaching Canada: About 30 School Boys Found Alive on Island After 2 Months of Self-Governing"_

England's navy recently recovered an assembly of English school boys that were assumed deceased after the disappearance of an R.S.2 evacuation plane. The aircraft was expected to arrive in the Manitoba province of Canada on the 23rd of June. The arrival of the transporter was reported unsuccessful on the 25th of June. An official statement was issued stating that the disappearance was not to be accounted for due to the peril of The Great War, implying that the aircraft was allegedly destroyed by opposing forces. Upon this statement, military parties were not instructed to investigate nearby territories due to the possibility of threatening advances. The families, of the children that were aboard of the R.S.2 evacuation plane, were notified of the events. The county in which the preadolescents hailed from is reported to be Hampshire.

On the 14th of August, British forces reported suspicious activity impending from an unidentified island located in the North Atlantic. The territory was issued under watch of the United Kingdom naval forces on the same date. On the 17th of August, since no advances were reported after the span of 3 days, naval forces were instructed to investigate the island. Upon investigation, about 30 of the English boys that were aboard of the evacuation plane were reported alive but in unstable conditions. No adults were found on the island, and sources estimate about 12 casualties over the course of nearly 2 months. Reports state that the survivors were escorted to health institutes within the Nova Scotia province of Canada.

* * *

_"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!" _

Ralph stared at the wall.

_"Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!" _

The hunters' voices echoed in his head.

_Derisive. Bloodthirsty. Savages._

How could English boys have the potential to become something so... evil? The boys were all so innocent during the first days on the island. How on Earth did they transform into such unforgiving creatures? Creatures that just wanted to grab, rip, scratch! Ralph tried to imagine Jack- in his chorister attire with a cup of tea- sitting at breakfast with his family. Perhaps they'd be talking about how dreadful the weather was. His mother would probably lean over and wipe jam from his cheek before scolding him, causing the boy to blush and glare at her. This all seemed too normal, in Ralph's opinion. Jack wasn't that proper little choir boy back in Castle Rock. No, he was a coldblooded killer, ready to murder anybody who dared challenge him.

Ralph shivered at the thought of this. His mind was a broken record, constantly replaying the same sad events. All of the affairs that arose on the island seemed like a terrible nightmare, but the former chief knew better than that. He had scars to prove it, including a rather large one on his chest that was anything but pretty to look at. Maybe... things would go back to normal?

No, things would never be normal again. Not after watching the island burn. Not after Piggy and Simon's death. It was apparent to Ralph that humans were very much animals; like wolves, lions, and bears. Stability was an illusion drawn out by society to hide the fact that mankind was the most dangerous species of all. Though, that mask could easily be broken. For instance, The Great War.

No, things most certainly would _never_ be normal again.

A woman knocked twice before opening his door and pushing her head into the room. Surprised, Ralph quickly stood, his cheeks flushing. The woman merely smiled and continued into the room.

"Hullo there. It's noontime. Are yew ready to take yer antibiotics?" the woman asked in a funny accent. Ralph nodded and continued to stare at her for a prolonged period of time. She smiled, excusing the odd behavior. After all, the boys had only been back in civilization for two weeks. He seemed to be recovering far better than some of the other boys. The nurse quickly unscrewed the top of a bottle and approached Ralph, who was still motionless.

"Well, gimme' your hand, sweetie," the woman ordered. Ralph raised his open palm and the worker quickly disposed two large pills into it. He raised his hand to his mouth and swallowed the pills, earning a look of disapproval from the nurse.

"Oh, heavens! Please get some wuter to wash those doon with!"

With that, she scribbled something down on her clipboard and moved on to her next patient's room. Instead of getting a glass of water, Ralph sat down on his bed once more, his thoughts wandering again. It was noon, which meant he had to attend therapy in an hour. Things were moving along slowly, but he had to admit, talking to someone really did make him feel a bit chipper. Even if it _was_ only twice a week. On the bright side, he was also allowed to write letters to his mother, who was residing in the English countryside for the time being. He really did miss his mum, but it was safer in Canada at the moment, so once he was released from the hospital, he would stay with a host family while he continued his studies. Ralph lied down and curled up on his side, his eyes once again resting on the wall.

* * *

_An hour later..._

As Ralph was being led to his therapist's office, he couldn't help but notice the few familiar faces in the hall. Most of the faces belonged to littluns, who he couldn't quite place names on. The only one Ralph could name was Percival, who was no longer prudent and innocent looking, but rather disturbed and melancholy. The blonde nearly stopped in his tracks when he locked eyes with the younger child.

"_Percival Wemys Madison. The Vicarage, Harcourt St. Anthony, Hants, telephone, telephone, tele—_"

Percival's eyes bore into Ralph with silent reminiscence. Abruptly, Ralph pulled away his gaze from the youngin and continued behind the nurse who was escorting him. As Ralph disappeared down the hall, Percival's eyes followed, and the boy began to snivel.

"Have you been at any of your homework, love?" the nurse asked in a familiar accent. It was almost relieving for Ralph to hear an English accent in a sea of what seemed to be only Canadians and Americans. They were all so strange with their daily rituals and foreign phrases.

"Yes, a bit," Ralph responded as they started up a flight of stairs. A large mirror was drilled into the wall on the first landing, and on instinct, Ralph peered into it. His hair had been trimmed back to a proper length and his skin was slowly paling and peeling. He had also gained some weight back after losing an abundance on the island. He had lost nearly three stone while gone and looked absolutely lurgy upon arrival, causing the doctors and nurses to cringe and obsessively offer him food. At first, Ralph had little to no appetite, but once he had gotten back into the hang of eating, he accepted close to every offer of food. Overall, Ralph almost looked like himself again, only like Percival, the sense of innocence he once owned was ripped from him, leaving his eyes distant. Dead.

"Your mums all must be thankful to God the lot of you are okay," the nurse added as they arrived at the door of Ralph's therapist.

"I've been writing to her almost every day, though I think the carriers might be delayed because of the..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence before the nurse offered a sorrowful nod. She raised her hand to the door and knocked twice and waited a moment before Dr. Anderson opened the door and smiled widely. Instead of gesturing for Ralph to go inside, the man stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind him. Ralph looked at him with a perturbed expression, clearly confused about what was happening. Dr. Anderson glanced at the nurse.

"Thank you, Esther. I'll take care of the lad from here," the therapist chuckled and the nurse excused herself. Once she had disappeared, he turned to Ralph, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.

"How have you been feeling?" he asked.

"Alright, I think. I can't stop thinking about the island-the hunters."

The man nodded at the boy and scribbled something down on his clipboard. That's all the folks seemed to do around there; scribble things down on their clipboards.

"What words do you think could define your current state of emotion? Wistful? Defaced? Melancholy? Distressed?"

Ralph pondered this for a moment. _All_ of those words seemed to describe his current state. Instead of responding, the boy stared at Dr. Anderson with his distant eyes. Dr. Anderson quickly scribbled more observations onto his clipboard.

"Alright, Ralph, we're going to go into my office now. There are several subjects we need to discuss before we can send you off with your host family," Dr. Anderson declared before pushing open the door and holding it so the English boy could pass. Ralph had let his guard down during the conversation with the man, but as soon as he lackadaisically stepped into the room, his red flags were once again erected. Sitting there, in all his glory, was lead chorister and head hunter, Jack Merridew.

"_Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_"

Ralph's breath caught in his throat, causing him to choke. Dr. Anderson had closed the door behind him and was now sitting across from where Jack was seated. Beside Merridew was an empty seat, which Ralph assumed he was supposed to occupy. Every fiber of his being screamed _NO_! For the first time since the island, Jack and Ralph met each other's gaze. Jack looked shocked to see Ralph, his mouth agape. His red hair had been cut short again, and as his skin was slowly growing ruddy once more, it was apparent he had gained many more freckles. He was also beginning to gain his weight back, though in Ralph's opinion, the boy had always looked sickly thin. They stared at each other for a long time, unsure how to react, before Ralph backed up into the door.

"Sit down, Ralph. You're alright. You're in a civilized environment now, and I expect you boys to act like civil-"

"No! I will not sit with that bloody monster! You can't make me sit with him!" Ralph shouted with wild eyes.

After a moment of processing what was happening, Jack glared at Ralph, who was trembling and gawking at him.

"You fool! Listen to the man! If you can't even sit with me they might as well lock you up with all of the other barmy wackos! Like Roger!" Jack shouted back at him. His words were harsh, but Jack had pleading eyes. The chorister always had dark eyes, but now, they seemed scared, almost desperate.

"What'd they do with Roger?" Ralph demanded, "What did they do to Roger that they didn't do to you? You should be wherever he is! Right up in the barmy bin, if that's where he's gone off to!"

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but he was immediately cut off by Dr. Anderson.

"That'll be enough, gentlemen!"

Both boys fell silent, though Ralph was still pressed desperately against the door as a thin layer of sweat formed on his face.

"Now, you will never feel any better about this ordeal if you do not sit down and talk about it. I wouldn't do this if I didn't think you young men couldn't handle it. Don't you trust me? All I've done is helped you boys," he looked from one boy to the other before repeating himself, "Don't you trust me?"

The boys exchanged a look of defeat, though it was still obvious both were uneasy and perplexed. Carefully, Ralph approached the seat next to Jack, as if Jack would produce a wooden spear out of thin air and penetrate the other's chest with the silly weapon. As he took a seat, it became obvious that the scenario Ralph had produced within his mind was far too unrealistic to go into play. The boy beside him was a beast, a maniac, who- though not quite as sadistic as Roger- had the ability to kill and feel no anguish. How was he even capable of acting like a stable human being after the madman's society he had created back at Castle Rock? The room was dead silent.

"So, boys, where shall we begin? Ah, yes. Coping."


End file.
